Lab Rats
by CreepyThinMan
Summary: This is a [Willard] fic about Willard being moved to a different wing of the hospital which hides a secret that he may never escape. Only one person, Catharine Miller can help him. THIS IS NOT A SAPPY LOVE STORY! Please R&R or I will get a spontanious cas
1. Default Chapter

Moving Day

The man who had been known as Willard Stiles, gentle and shy, 

was now "Rat-Boy". Or at least that's what the correctional 

officer called him. That officer, Jim, would not leave him alone, 

not even when he slept. Always taunting, snickering, guffawing 

at Willard's sad state. But never would the officer find Willard's 

small white companion, waiting with him for Socrates to return. 

They were as quiet as a mouse. Jim would always walk in to find 

Willard Stiles, case 3 9-11, staring at the door blankly, waiting. 

Yes, sometimes Willard would eat, his slim fingers would drop 

down to the food, feel around for a piece, and he would raise it to 

his mouth, chewing slowly, eyes never leaving the door. Today, 

Willard waited inside of his cell, the white rat nibbling gently at 

his palm, telling him to give up this monotonous routine, but 

Willard would simply bring his sleeve to eye-level, look at the 

creature and whisper, "He will come. Wait. Patience, little friend." 

Although, the routine was quite different today. Almost 

disturbingly so. Today, Jim walked in and sneered at "Rat-boy" 

and hissed, "Com'n. We're going on a walk." Willard turned him 

head slowly and said, "No." "What are you talking about you sick 

freak? When I tell you to walk, you walk." Then a twist of fate 

presented itself as Willard's companion wriggled under his 

sleeve. Jim leered. "Wouldn't want anything bad to happen to 

that rat of yours." Willard jumped up and processed the threat in 

his mind. Jim could almost hear it snapping. Willard then jumped 

on the scrawny man, who was even thinner than himself, and 

started beating him upon the face. Jim flailed and called for help 

and four burley men with tranquilizers marched into the room. 

They threw Willard onto his cot and injected him with the serum. 

Willard instantly went a little limp and two of the men took 

Willard by an arm and led him out of the room. Willard walked 

by madmen babbling about non-existent women and places and 

wondered if he could even be classified as the same species as 

them. His world started to spin as a headache threatened to split 

his head in two, and was led into a room with the words, 

"OFFICER PERSONNEL ONLY". They opened the door and 

that is when Willard's world would be shattered forever. He 

walked past men in 6-8 foot showers with a padding on the side. 

They lead Willard by them and Willard stuttered, "U-uum, w-

what are those e-exactly?" "These are gonna be your new happy 

home.", said Jim holding an ice-pack to his swollen face. 

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HHHHHHHHH!". A scream rung out through the metal brushed 

room. The officers left Willard's side and ran to the source of the 

scream. A man had ripped out his IV, and it was now spurting 

purple neon liquid. The officers ran to the man who was now 

scraping himself across the floor in agony. They unsheathed their 

nightsticks and started beating the man about the head, quite 

unnecessarily, Willard thought to himself. Willard felt numb as 

the man was left dead on the floor, in a puddle of pooling dark 

blood, skull bashed in and exposed tissue. Willard took in the 

scene and started to emit body wracking sobs. The men came to 

Willard's side and threw him into his new home. They attached 

and IV to him, and left him sobbing in the room. A man in a long 

white coat took the plastic that was protruding from Willard's 

arm, and put a syringe into it and injected him with some liquid. 

That is when Willard realized the truth. They were being tested 

on. They were truly human lab rats. Willard looked at the rat 

wriggling uncomfortably in his sleeve and told him to find Ben. 

Find him and tell him what was going on. He sent the rat out and 

the rat escaped only to give a loud squeak as it's tail was stepped 

on by a large heel. The woman who had caused the rat's pain 

looked down and picked up the tiny creature who was quivering 

with fear. A warm smile crossed her face as she carefully placed 

the rat into her purse, and whispered not to be scared. Poised, 

she walked to the front desk and stated, "Catharine Miller to see 

Willard Stiles."

I don't own Crispin Glover, Willard, or Ratman's Notebook.

Please R&R.


	2. Hope in a Coat

Willard's long nose twitched and wriggled as he smelled the air. It smelled like urine, sweat 

and blood (the unlucky gentleman who had ripped out his IV). Willard sat up in the florescent 

illuminations coming from the damp, mildewy ceiling. He looked down the row of clear, plexi-

glass showers in front of him as a hot tear ran down his clammy face. Willard lowered his 

head as his dark brown locks covered his tear-streaked face, almost as a curtain would 

detaining any sign of emotion until the morning sun came up to greet the ecstatic prisoner. 

The sun would not rise for many, many days. The curtain of darkness would not be lifted to 

let emotion frolic about in its emancipation. Suddenly, a ray of light shone through the thick 

curtain, the sound of high-heels echoed throughout the room. Willard's head shot up and 

looked towards the source of the sound. It was Catharine, walking through the room swiftly 

but poised like a cat. Willard's first reaction was to shrink towards the wall in a huddled mass, 

ashamed of the horrors that had transpired at his house, the unlucky Mr. Martin, murdered at 

the hands or should I say, paws of his henchmen. But Willard then remembered Catherine's 

sympathetic nature and crawled hands and knees as a wounded animal would towards the 

door of the cell. Catharine approached eyeing Willard's every movement from above, but 

with a warm and almost sad smile on her face. "How you holding up?", she said, her voice 

almost snapping in two. He didn't reply, he just nodded a distant look on his face. 

Catherine's brow furrowed, she tried a different approach. "Um, I thought you might like 

this....", Catherine said drawing a small contented white rat from her purse. "SOCRATES!", 

Willard yelled a smile spreading across his face as the white rat scurried under the door and 

into his sleeve. The guards turned around, threw Catharine into a steel table and threw open 

the door to Willard's cell. They kicked and hit him until he was gasping for breath and 

struggled to draw life into his rattled lungs. Catharine pushed through the guards and ran to 

him. She dropped to her knees ajadcent to him and mussed up her prim and perfect bun 

she had when she walked in. "You bastards, you didn't have to hit him so hard!" she spat. 

Willard looked up at her as he shook with concealed sobs. "Catharine" he said softly, 

"please don't leave me here...." Catharine clutched his collar. "I won't, " she promised as a 

huge pair of burly arms dragged her away from the frightened man. Willard bolted upright 

with a second wind as he clutched the cold metal bars as he watched his hope in a fur coat 

dragged out the door by an officer.


End file.
